


The Parent Teacher Conference

by Cyane



Series: The Teacher [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Child Neglect, Families of Choice, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, George Washington is a Dad, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyane/pseuds/Cyane
Summary: James Hamilton shows up for parent-teacher conferences. George Washington isn't impressed.





	The Parent Teacher Conference

George Washington had mixed feelings about parent-teacher conferences. 

On one hand, it was a good way to keep in touch with his student's personal lives, a good way to make sure that their parents understood what was going on in class, a good way to fix any issues or discuss any problems, and a good way to gush about how absolutely incredible their children were.

On the other hand, George had to deal with a few parents each year that made him want to rip his own nonexistent hair out. The parents that didn't take an interest, the parents that immediately demanded he raise their child's grade. The parents that went on for a full hour, blabbering on about how amazing their children were. George could hardly stand it.

 _Five minutes_ , he wanted to scream. _I have five minutes to talk, so don't waste it._

Of course, the other exhaustive element was the hours. It went from three in the afternoon until nine thirty in the evening, and it still wasn't enough time for all of the parents. There were giant gaps of time when no one showed up, and then gaps where fifteen families arrived simultaneously. 

So, on the day of parent teacher conferences, George made sure he had three bottles of water in his desk, a bowl of trail mix, all the student files neatly stacked, and a blanket he could wrap around his legs when the night grew darker. His little setup ensured that the conferences would be more bearable. 

(Of course, they weren't bearable whatsoever. Even with the trail mix.)

The first three couples who showed up came with their kids. All of them looked a bit anxious, but stayed polite and quiet. All three of them were 'A' students, who George generally acknowledged as well-behaved and diligent.

At four forty-five in the afternoon, Henry Laurens strutted into the classroom and George couldn't keep in the sigh that escaped him. It had been made clear that George wasn't fond of the man the year before, when Henry Laurens had arrived with his son, John, and had immediately gone on a rant about how little John had been learning in class. 

Fortunately enough, John seemed to have been spared from a repeat of the experience, as he was nowhere to be found. George thought John Laurens was a bright young mind. 

"George!" Henry exclaimed, as if they were old friends. Through gritted teeth, George managed to stand up and shake the man's hand, if not a tad too tightly. 

"Henry," George ground out, plastering a tight smile across his face.

It was the beginning of a long night.

By nine-fifteen at night, George was rubbing his temples, desprately wishing the clock would move fifteen minutes forward. His trail mix bowl was empty, he only had half of a water bottle left, and he was sick and tired of the parents.

The latest, at nine o'clock sharp; Mr. and Mrs. Mulligan, complaining for ten minutes about how Hercules didn't want to be in the family business.

 _God-_ if he had to listen to another second of sewing semantics, he would start throwing punches. 

The time was dripping down the clock. Slowly. Slowly. Nine twenty-two. 

He couldn't actually leave until nine-thirty, but George began packing his things up anyway. At this point, it was clear enough that none of the other parents were coming. 

Nine twenty-nine. 

George's eyes were stapled to the clock. When it reached he half hour mark, he gave a breath of relief and picked up his bag, fully ready to get back to Martha and have a long weekend. 

But, of course, with his luck-- the second George rose from his seat, after nearly six hours of conferences, the door swung open and in came a scraggly-looking man, with greasy hair and a patchy chin. And, with his left hand, he was dragging in Alexander Hamilton none-too-gently.

By god's name, it was _James._ James _Hamilton._

George sat back down of his own accord. He would always make time for Alexander, no matter how late it was or how tired he was. 

He kept his face carefully blank, though. Having never seen James Hamilton before in his life, he hadn't had anything to judge his character on. Although his physical appearance was startlingly unkempt, he refused to let himself judge the man. Hell, Alexander was rough around the edges. 

George didn't let his judgement grow, even though his immediate internal reaction was to pull Alexander _away_ from the dangerous-looking man who was pulling him in by the wrist.

"James Hamilton, I presume?" George asked neutrally. Alexander's face was already scrunched up, as if he would rather be anywhere else. 

"Tha's right." James responded, practically dumping Alexander in the adjoining chair. 

George pulled out Alexander's file. By far, the thickest, filled with achievements, essays that were far too long, and detention cards for getting into fistfights. Honestly, George felt a swell of pride as he flipped the vanilla folder open. _He_ felt like the proud parent, wanting to show off everything Alexander had done. 

"This is Alexander's file," George began, flipping it around to show the two of them. Alexander's fingers were twitching restlessly, his eyes still unharacteristically subdued. 

James looked bored.

George swallowed down his anger at the lack of a reaction. Perhaps he didn't know what any of it meant. Nodding quickly, George pointed to the scores and grades. 

"As you can see, Alexander has had the highest score in the class for the past semester, and the second-highest score this term."

James glanced up at the latter. "Second? Who was the first?" 

Alexander seemed to shrink into his chair. 

"I'm not at liberty to say." George said, his voice taking on a cold tone. "I think it's rather incredible that Alexander has the scores he has, Mr. Hamilton." 

James huffed out a sneer, his eyes meeting George's. "Heh... yeah, _incredible,_ Alex. Only question is when the fuck this'll actually be useful."

"Dad!" Alexander said pleadingly, going crimson at his own father's words. James scowled at him and Alexander seemed to retreat, looking back at his hands. He refused to look up and see George. 

George, who was absolutely fuming. If there was anything he hated, it was parents who mocked their children for their achievements. He had seen far too many parents laugh at their sons for getting bad grades when they themselves had been a key factor in it-- far too many parents that didn't look pleased, only worried, when their daughter showed leadership abilities. 

But dear God, George never expected it from Alexander Hamilton's father. He thought that if they had immigrated to New York for better opportunities, James would've been supporting Alexander's education. 

It seemed that the only one supporting Alexander's education was Alexander. 

"Alexander has several things here that would make his resumé and college applications--"

Another laugh. Alexander's hands were trembling. 

James was reeling back in his own seat, clapping his hands together and practically whistling in amusement. "You- HA- you think this boy is going to college?!"

Yes.

The word seared itself into George's brain, like it was the only thing possible. He surprised himself with the intensity and loudness of the single word that hadn't even been spoken aloud.

If anyone was going to college, it was Alexander Hamilton. George felt the penicil begin to bend under the force he clutched it with. 

"I know he is." George said firmly. "You'd be a fool to think otherwise, Mr. Hamilton. Alexander's grades are beyond impeccable. He's joined the NHS and the Debate team, which he excells in. He's in every AP class he can be in-- he has more than a chance for scholarships and a full ride. In my class alone, I have seen him write essays that are beyond college ready."

James slapped a hand on Alexander's shoulder, making the boy jump slightly. George felt his teeth set on edge at the sight, but kept his eyes cooly on James'. 

_Get. Away. From. Him._

Of course, George doubted that would help Alexander in the slightest. It was one of the main downfalls to being a teacher. He had to tolerate parenting skills that were beyond neglectful, borderline abusive. He had taken concerns to the counselors and administration before, and they had asked him for _evidence._

_Evidence._ As if he should need _evidence_ for them to at least investigate. As if the safety of students was left up to how much evidence there was. 

"You wanna go to college, boy?" 

For the first time in his life, it seemed, Alexander stayed silent. George wasn't surprised, although it made him furiously sad, to see such uncharacteristic resignation on the boy's face. 

Alexander kept his head and eyes down, but George could easily see the barely-restrained embarrassed rage welling inside him. 

Alexander Hamilton wouldn't take this from anyone else. If it was another teacher, or a student, or even a stranger, there was a good chance Alexander would've already thrown one. 

James laughed again at the lack of a response. "I don't think he does, Mr. Washin'ton. Good. College won't get you anywhere." 

The five minutes was already up, but George hardly wanted to leave things there, when nothing had actually been accomplished. The best he could do, as a teacher, would be to show James just how well Alexander was doing, and pray that the man would come around. 

Or, at least... George could remind _Alexander_ how much he'd accomplished, and pray that the boy continued building on his ambitions. 

So, George clamped the fury behind his teeth and continued.

"...Alright. Well, Alexander has the highest scores I've seen on the essay portion of the AP test, so far, and I have no doubt that he will pass with flying colors. This is his most recent essay," George said, sliding the stapled stack of papers across the table, "and, as you can see, he writes quite a lot, with excellent results."

It went on for some time, and George allowed himself to indulge a bit, praising Alexander with every word. Had Alex's parent been anyone other than James Hamilton, George would've thought it necessary to discuss Alexander's run for violence and getting into heated fights with other students, but he doubted it would do any good to bring it up. 

Alexander's embarrassment from his father slowly turned into bashfulness; a rarity, honestly, and George found himself smiling at how sheepish the boy got. Alexander Hamilton was many things, but 'humble' had never been one George had considered. 

Throughout the entire thirty minutes George spent, James didn't even attempt to hide his non-discreetly checking of the clock and his own cheap watch. Soon it became apparent that George was really only talking to Alexander, while James slouched over, looking like boredom was eating him alive. 

"Well done on your term project, as well, Alexander. It was quite interesting to hear you talk about."

Alexander grinned. "Thank you, sir."

One look at James confirmed that Alexander's father was reaching the last of his patience, so George finally relented when the clock ticked to ten o'clock. If he went on any longer, he would have some explaining to give to Martha. 

"Well, that seems like the end of it," George concluded cheerfully, carefully keeping his eyes trained on Alexander, and not the eldest Hamilton. 

From the huge grin on Alexander's face, and the blush that completely covered the boy, George had done his job; changed the awkward, uncomfortable meeting into something between George and Alexander. No biological father required. 

For the first time in at least fifteen minutes, James shifted and his glazed-out eyes seemed to return to the room. "....Right. Jesus, that was long. Any other issues I should know about? That Alexander's been causin'?" 

George examined the man critically. _That you should know about?_

"No."

George escorted them at the end, locking up his classroom on the way out. James reverted back to dragging Alexander around like an object and continuing an onslaught of near verbal-abuse, but it was also evident that Alexander was sill on a high from the praise. 

"I'll see you on Monday, Alexander." George gave his student a brief smile before parting ways. The moment he turned his back, he vaguely heard James start blathering on about how nonproductive the whole meeting had been. 

_Good riddance_ , George internally grumbled, feeling his bitterness returning. God, he absolutely loathed conferences. 

 

The following Monday, Alexander burst into his classroom twenty minutes before school actually started, carrying a stack of papers and notebooks in his arms. 

"Alexander?" George rolled around in his chair, wondering if something was the matter. 

"I want to go to college," Alexander breathed out in a single breath, practically sagging in front of his teacher.

George couldn't keep his smile at bay. 

"Of course. Did you have anywhere in mind?"

Alexander was still panting for air, but nodded. "Kings or Princeton, probably. Er- as a first choice." Then, more hesitantly, "Could you.... ah, could you help me with my applications?"

George's eyes sparkled with delight. "Of course."

Because by god, support of his father or not, Alexander Hamilton was going to college. And, if not anyone else, he would have George to fall back on.

**Author's Note:**

> lol I hope this is better than I think it is
> 
>  
> 
> So obviously this doesn't connect to my other story. Basically, most of these (maybe not all) in the _The Teacher_ series will be around HS!AU Hamilton, but most will not be connected? idk what y'all think?


End file.
